Second Verse, Same as the First
by Out-of-the-inside-out-box
Summary: Set in movie verse. Ten years after the events of Lydia, and her encounter of the infamous Beetlejuice, she's seemingly moved on. She found the love of her life, and now she's getting married, in Hawaii. What events will happen in the exotic land of love?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Ok people, the first chapter of the new story is up. This whole idea originated from a talk me and rubydesires had on DeviantArt. Supposedly there's going to be a sequel to Beetlejuice, called Beetlejuice goes to Hawaii. Well, with the ideas that we came up with, I couldn't pass an opportunity to write up this little diamond in the rough.

This story is set in movie-verse. Ten years after her encounter with the infamous Beetlejuice, and the events that followed said encounter, she moved on from the whole fiasco, or so she told herself. A part of her took on his voice, his personality, as her own personal shoulder devil, whispering sweet nothings to the poor girl. She finally found someone though, someone she grew to care about. Now they're getting hitched, in beautiful, beautiful Hawaii. What adventures wait us there, my dear compadres? We shall soon see.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beetlejuice. We all know this. Only the illustrious Tim Burton owns the concept. But his spirit belongs to no one.

Now, onto the first chapter of:

**Second Verse, Same as the First**

**Chapter 1**-Ten Years Later...

---

_Gentle caresses, rough hands, red tips nipping hungrily at soft porcelain. Blue lips pressing at life's pulse, greedy green locking into innocent brown. Ice against fire, as a fever overtook both…_

White tipped nails dug into the brown of stained wood, as wide eyes of milk chocolate stared into the never ending swirls of ages. Heavy breath filled her mind as those images played through her mind over and over again, and slowly, eyebrows furrowed. Clarence entered her head; none of that was real, only in the book she was writing. She told herself that repeatedly, if only to quiet that cackling devil on her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at the wood, which seemed to mock her.

_You'd like that, you disgusting creature of the night…well I won't let you win. I won't let you sink your disgusting bloody fingers into my head, I have therapy now!_

Anyone who would walk upon the scene in front of them would instantly turn away, in fear. There sat a black haired woman, roughly in her late twenties, early thirties, with her hair French braided back into a mass of manmade curls, and her suit probably made from subconscious whims. A loose oversized white shirt, tied at the waist with a black and white striped scarf, and a flowing skirt of white, navy blue, and black stripes. There was also the black heals, and the red barrette in her hair in the shape of a beetle-ladybug hybrid.

But her appearance was beside the point. A normally well mannered and fluent woman, whom had the greatest self control and tolerance known to most men, was stabbing her oak table wildly with a rather sharp letter opener.

Only the bravest, or most careless, of souls dare approach the cannibalistic rabbit on days such as this.

Even fewer survive.

It was about that time that another woman, who was rather voluptuous, and a few years older, sidestepped the mass of wall sticking out farther than needed, walked up to the enraged brunet, and took the rising letter opener out of her hands before she made another downward motion. The first girl flinched, and hissed as she gripped her hand hard, having smashed it into the vengeful wood. She looked up at the bigger woman, who had hazelnut skin, brown eyes, and short brown curly hair that smelt of morning wake, and pouted with her side hand in her mouth.

"Selene, what was that for?" The first female mumbled through her puffy hand.

The second female, Selene, sighed as she leaned against the edge of the table, and then eyed the letter opener as she flipped it from one finger to the other. Her eyes flickered to the owner of the voice, gripped the silver opener, and then started to wave it at her. "Lydia, you're a photographer for a very important magazine! I stress on the word _important_, and the word _**very**_. You're supposed to be a face for this company, and here you are, stabbing a poor defenseless tabletop, which belongs to the company in the first place. Learn your mannerisms!" She said, her voice velvet, but her hand not so much. A thump to the back of the younger female's head got her point across.

Lydia flinched and glared at the older woman. "I know Selene, no need for the abuse." The pale woman groaned as she looked back down at her desk; freckles of war scars imbedded into it.

Selene sighed deeply and closed her eyes, yellow flickering wildly in her gold eye-shadow. "And on top of that you're getting married this weekend. I know you feel the need to let down your guard, since it's your week and all, but seriously, there's a limit." She said, scoffing.

Lydia stared at her, and then sneered, looking down at her work. "Maybe I should take back the invitation to be my MoH." Another whack to the back of the head stopped that train of thought immediately.

"Shut your mouth. You know I've wanted to be a maid of honor since forever. Don't you dare deny me that, or so help me I'll…"

"Kill me in my sleep?"

"No, killing you would get you off too easy. No, I'll tell your fiancée about that man you fantasize about." Selene taunted, and received a dry stare in return.

"Fantasize. You think I fantasize about him."

There was a nod in response. "Of course. You write about him in that little book of yours."

Lydia narrowed her eyes. "It's going to be a horror book. You know that, right?" She said, turning back to examining her table.

Selene just laughed and waved her hand. "Oh, don't be so modest. The way you write about this fantasy man, you make it sound like a romance."

Lydia groaned and leaned forward, rubbing her temples. "Was there a reason why you came in here, aside from stopping me taking my rage out on an inanimate object?"

Selene blinked and stood up, nodding lightly. "Yeah, actually. Someone was calling for you, and they accidently called my number." Selene tapped her chin gently, wondering about the likeliness that that would actually happen.

Lydia looked up at Selene, and closed her eyes lightly. "Was it Richard?"

"No, it was someone else. Delilah…Daphne…Daisy…Danny…"

"The last one isn't a female name you know."

"It can be, if it's short for Danielle." Selene's voice stiffened in defense, and Lydia sighed.

"Look, it's probably Delia. Can you-"

"Delia?"

"My step mother. Now please, can you send her through to my line?" Lydia asked with a sigh.

With a nod Selene left, and a few seconds later her phone let out a monotonous beep. Lydia stared at the hunk of gray plastic, bit her lip, and slowly grabbed the phone. Not even a second later there was a loud shrill on the other end. Lydia flinched, almost dropped the phone, and played hot potato with it until she got a good grip on it. She held the receiver to her mouth and yelled into it.

"Delia! Delia! What's wrong? Did dad have another heart attack? Are you being attacked? What?!" she panted, ignoring the awkward stares into her office.

Another scream erupted, in the form of a coo. Lydia blinked, furrowed her eyebrows, and pulled the phone away just enough to stare at it questioningly.

"Oh Lydia, those big hunky natives are going to love my new piece!" yelled Delia into the phone, delighted.

Lydia groaned and hunched over, putting all her weight on the now preoccupied elbow. She rubbed her face with her hand, and ran it through her hair. "Hey Delia." She moaned and closed her eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose gently.

"Lydia, I must show you my new piece. Maybe even your boss might like it." Delia said, her voice pitter pattering like high chimes. "Have you been able to pull those strings you told me about yet?"

Lydia held back a sigh, and leaned back in her chair. "No Delia, he's tough to crack."

"Maybe you can take pictures of it at your wedding then? You can show your boss my new sculptures! You did invite him to your big day, right?"

"Yes Delia." She sighed. "Look, can we not do this now?"

There was a long silence on the other end, until finally, "You're going to talk to your boss-"

"Yes Delia, yes. I'll see you at the wedding."

"Wait, Lydia darling."

Lydia groaned. "What Delia?" She snapped.

"Lydia, darling, you know I'm proud that my little girl is all grown up and getting married Sunday, right?" Delia asked, a sound of pleading in her voice.

Lydia paused, and slowly nodded. "Yeah…yeah I do Delia…hey, is dad ok?" she asked softly.

There was a bit of static, and a voice was cleared. "Yes dear, your father is doing better. He'll be able to go to your wedding…It would be better if you did it here-"

"Delia." Lydia warned.

"But we have the tickets. We'll be there on Saturday. Ooh, my little Lydia is all grown up, and getting married, of her own will!"

Lydia glared at the phone. "Bye Delia." She slammed the phone on the receiver.

---

The night air was crisp and cool, as it brushed against her face lovingly. Lydia sighed gently as she leaned against the window to her home office; a giant window, with a balcony seat, that she could free write from, or even take the occasional picture of the New York skyline. How she got such a wonderful view, or place, she would never know. It was just right for her needs; two rooms, one which was converted into an office, a spacious living room/dining room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom with a giant bath. A perfect studio flat, big enough for just her and her fiancée. No room for pets, no room for children…not that she ever wanted children.

She sighed and closed her eyes, when the light suddenly flicked on. She winced a little, and glanced at the perpetrator; her fiancée. He was lanky, for lack of better words. He stood five foot seven, half a head taller than Lydia, with short black hair, and deep set black eyes. He was pail, and he wore dark clothes that clung to him fashionably. He was a pretty famous gallery owner, and he only went out to parties to promote his gallery, and whoever would be in it at the time. Besides that though, he stayed home, either with a box of chow mien, or a slice of pizza from around the corner. He liked to play it safe, he liked to think instead of act, and he was what she needed; a reliable man who wouldn't go off the deep end. A very sane, reliable, safe man.

_A very boring prick, if ya ask me._

She frowned lightly, at the voice. She felt a cool hand on her shoulder, and her eyes flicked up to the man in front of her, looking into his worried dark eyes.

"Hey sweetie, is everything ok?"

Lydia blinked and tilted her head lightly. "Yeah Damien, why?"

Damien, the man before her, frowned lightly. "You seem a little out of it. Are you sure flying tomorrow would be good for your energy?"

Lydia sighed gently, and rested her hand on his upper arm softly. "Yes, my energy will be just fine."

Damien nodded and smiled softly at Lydia. "Alright…come to bed. We have an early day tomorrow."

She nodded. "I'll be there in a bit."

He mimicked her, and then planted a kiss on her forehead. "Just think sweet heart. In a couple days our lives will change forever…"

Lydia's breath caught in her throat. Yes…she would fly to Hawaii tomorrow, with her loving and supportive fiancée, get hitched the next day, and then come back the day after. No need for honeymoons, because every day was a vacation, for him. Her, on the other hand...

_Heh, sellin' your soul already babes? I thought that was mine and only mine…_


	2. Encounter of the Fourth kind

**Author's Note:** Oh my oh my, I am not dead. Not in the least bit dead. I am sorry my lovelies, that I have been away for so long though. I have been caught up with many things, and well, as you can see, it has effected my writing times. Yes it has, but hopefully, with this, I can end my unintentional hiatus, and come back to my lovelies, with writings once more.

I am hoping to write some more of my other stories, but currently, this and possibly one of my other fictions will hold higher priority.

To my reviewers, who may or may not be still watching this dear writer that is me, I thank you. Thank you Cybernetic Mango, dbzgtfan2004, Substitute Reality, and Darbanville. This is all I can give to you, I hope you accept my peace offering. ^^

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beetlejuice. I own Selene and Damian though, because they are characters, that I created. Not much else needs to be explained.

Now, onto the next chapter of:

**Second verse, same as the first**

**Chapter 2: Encounter of the fourth kind…**

---

A flash of red, layers of god-awful neon red cloth encased her, smothering her in the smell of dust and chili powder-faint chili powder, the type that is fading, but is still there, prominent, in the forefront of your mind, poking you with pointy, blunt objects.

Then, the grasp of the arm, forceful but oh-so gentle-maybe not. Drag, scuffle, rustle, shove. Those sounds echoed in the mind, as the overwhelming scent of mold, rain, and decomposing beetle guts-along with a scent of gingivitis with rabies- filled the senses, and then eyes.

Gaping, unearthly eyes, filling your soul with a sense of abyss and dismay, staring at you, making one void and obedient in a sort of fearful way. All of these things jumping out at the same time; the images of shock and horror from Delia and Charles-my father- weren't as important, as the image of him. Him, with mold imbedded in the roots of his faded blond hair, those wide toxic green eyes, that glowed with mischief and glee, with deep black circling them and making them that much bigger and greener, and that crooked smile, complete with that pale glow that only death can bring.

"…a great caterer, got a band, and hey, gonna need witnesses." He said, with a gravel of determination. The shock was too great; the shock that he was completely serious, the shock that this was actually happening, the shock that my parents were being tied up in a grand sense of irony. The shock that my god parents couldn't do anything about it…

They were falling apart, literally.

I was ashamed, or disturbed, either way, the toll was dire.

"Ah-ah-ah. Nobody says the B word." He said, warning on his voice like a raccoon smeared across the tar paved road. For some reason I tuned everything out…even the frantic screams of Delia; all I could hear were his words. Shit if I knew why, but they were the only things that stuck out in my mind.

"Sure, why not?"

That was my chance!

Wait…that's my chance, why is everything fading black? I can't hear myself, I can't hear the screams, or the chaos. Where's the giant striped worm thing? Where's Barbara, or Adam? Where's…

_What would'a happened if ya said yes, babes?_

---

Her eyes snapped open, and her eyes focused on the closest object to her-her darling fiancée's worried face staring down at her. Lydia panted softly, as she slowly sat up, Damien giving her space, and she glanced towards him, questions in her eyes. Damien slowly smiled a soft, shaky smile, coupled with a bony hand resting on her back. "You were sweating, and saying something by the name of Beetle…juice? You repeated it in your sleep, and you were thrashing in your sleep."

She stiffened at the name. Oh no…

She whipped around to look at him, sternness in her eyes. "How many times did I say it?" she demanded in a voice that was only used at work. It was his turn to stiffen.

"Only twice! What's wrong sweetheart? It's our time to relax…" He said, his voice lowering into a whimper. She flinched and then broke a smile for him, her shoulders rolling forward, and her eyes looking over him in sentimental apology.

"I'm sorry Damien…"

His head turned away in a pouting frenzy. "Say the pet name."

Lydia blinked, and slowly a pink flush passed over her cheeks. "D-Damien, that isn't necessary-"

"Say it."

Lydia sighed and heaved her head forward. "I'm sorry shnookie-puppy-bear." She said, trying to hide the pain of saying such an awful pet name. In the back of her head there was hysteria.

That went silent though, as she was scooped up in his arms, and kissed on the forehead. "Only for you my dark princess."

She cringed inwardly, even though the latest pet name wasn't as bad as..ugh..cuddle-bear, or booger plum…He wasn't the same as when she first met him. But that's another story she would get into later.

She smiled softly at the not-so-dark Damien, as he stood up and smiled back at her. He then knelt over her, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. With a cheek pinch he turned and left. "Think, sweetie, tomorrow we can properly call ourselves 'The Neffingtons'. Then all our dreams will come true. Now hurry up, you want to go swimming don't you?"

No, not really…

Before she could voice her thoughts, he was gone. Lydia bit her lip, and then groaned. She was only having pre-wedding jitters, she loved her fiancée very…very much. It was just…she was going through a rough patch, one that was self imposed, one that made her doubt her love very much…right? She got to her feet, and stepped over to the mirror, which was lit just right by the mid-day rays, that hit it just right, and she leaned forward. She looked herself over and sighed gently, slapping her face gently. It was complete nonsense, what she was putting herself though. She didn't want anything wild, didn't want anything out of the ordinary…nothing to do with that poltergeist, nope. Nada, absolutely nothing. What. So. Ever.

Despite what she had said out loud in her sleep. It…it was probably…

Ugh, she didn't know.

There was a heavy, rushed knock at her door, and she turned to look. There were cries from the other side of the door, which caused Lydia to rush over to it, and open it. Not a second too soon that this happened, when Selene barged through the door, with her hair tied up and a Hawaiian skirt wrapped around her waist, accompanied with a short white t-shirt of course. "Oh. My god. Lydia, I can't believe you're missing out on the festivities, girl."

Lydia looked at Selene with furrowed eyebrows, and Selene just sighed. "Ok, there are natives out there. Hot natives I mind you. They are shaking those cute native tooshies, and I think your step mom's getting a little too frisky." There was a loud giggle from a familiar red head in response to this accusation, and Selene snorted. She grabbed Lydia by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Your step mother is out scoring us! That's sad! You're getting kidnapped." Selene then grabbed Lydia by her waist, picked up the three-times-smaller girl, and stomped off to the party below.

---

That day passed in a blur of hot Hawaiian men, hula dancing, drunk giggles, and a silent on-looking Damien. She wanted him to jump in, to have fun, and to laugh about things, but he merely stood there, watching the festivities with a passing smile. That image irked Lydia to no end, and the meaning behind it irked her even more. Sure, he was fine with how things were, and that he trusted in her to not go beyond simple flirting and laughter, but shouldn't he be the least bit jealous?

As the sun set Lydia found herself alone amongst the sea of drunken companions, and even more alone amongst the ocean of couples. The sky finally had gone black, and a sky of stars opened up above her, when she finally decided to indulge herself. She sighed softly as she walked over to the techno-lit bungalow at the edge of the beach, right next to the hotel, and she plopped down in the bar seat that sat on an island of thick, sturdy cement. She took a deep breath as she tugged at the elastic band that held her hair together, and exhaled as she tugged it loose, hearing the rubber snap under her fingers.

Oops.

She tossed the broken band into the sand, and slumped forward. She was in a white sleeveless t, and short black pants, which were really shorts, but that was besides the point. The point was, she felt exhausted in those normal clothes that she wore. Her big brown eyes closed, and her mind wandered back to her childhood. She didn't want to get married…but she had no other choice. Besides, she would be happy, living a mundane life that put up a façade of being not so mundane, with a gallery owner husband that faked sheik, but was really as plain as the rest of the joe-blows out there, and conforming her old ways to meet his mundanity.

She was sealed though. Lydia chose this life. It made her happy, working in a practically normal job, being an editor for a high end job. She couldn't say that was normal…but yet she did. If only she had said yes that night…then she wouldn't be kicking herself now. She would just get married to Damien, and fall back in love with him, after having children, or maybe a dog. Dog sounded better than children. Ghastly little cretins…

She groaned and sighed, her hair falling in front of her face, as she ordered something cheep that would kick her ass the next morning. She was about to pay for it, when she heard a tisk from her side. Lydia looked over, to a man wearing a brown wide-brimmed hat, probably three feet in diameter, that hid his face, and a matching brown trench coat that went down to his curling…black…shoes.

Her eyes snapped up to his face, or what he could see of his face, which was only his jaw line. Her eyes widened, and then she shook her head. "N-no, that couldn't be. He wouldn't be here. I sent him away…" She said to herself, under her breath. There was a chuckle, and she turned her attention back to the strange man, as he turned to her, a feather peeking out from where it was tucked away. A black…and white…striped feather. She felt every muscle in her body stiffen, as a crooked row of yellow teeth grinned at her.

"I can still take you up on that offer babes."


End file.
